


Simulation Now

by MurderOfCrowss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Attentive Ben, Ben's trying to change her mind, Ben/Rey married, Clyde is in this...but not as Logan. I stole him, Clyde is sweet, F/M, Happily Ever After, Kylo gives sessions with praise kink, Kylo/Clyde created by Rey, Not from Ben/Kylo/Clyde, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey in a wheelchair, Rey serving divorce papers, Sex in Virtual Reality, She's trying to do things wrong way, Snoke is a terrible lecherous bastard, The Sims game inspired this fic, Threat of violence and Rape, Very Light Dom/Sub Vibes, Very light BDSM., Virtual Reality, ben needs a hug, fic written and will update quickly, plot under it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderOfCrowss/pseuds/MurderOfCrowss
Summary: It’s been one year since Rey’s life fell apart. As a successful video game developer married to the love of her life, a freak accident on the road took her mother, father, and the function of her legs in one fell swoop. Wheelchair-bound and isolated from her old life, Rey throws herself into her code, working day and night to program the perfect true-to-life experience for her virtual reality game, Simulation Now, from the refreshing carbonation of a rum and coke to the near-perfect copy of her husband Ben who mans the bar.But the world has always been a far cry from perfect. With the real-life Ben shredding their divorce papers and her brother insisting she go to therapy, Rey is rapidly losing control of her personal life. Producing another virtual copy of her soon-to-be ex-husband, she programs herself a therapist to help. But there’s something about Kylo Ren that’s a little too real for virtual reality. And just as she’s on the verge of a breakthrough, things take a turn when her boss at Empire Enterprise reveals his plot to steal her invention out from under her. In the wrong hands, Simulation Now could be extremely dangerous—which means that Rey is holding Pandora’s box in her arms, with one hand on the latch.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 66
Kudos: 78





	1. Logged In

_ Crazy. _

_ I’m crazy for feeling so lonely. _

_ I’m crazy. _

_ Crazy for feeling so blue. _

“Clyde,” I said as he made me my rum and coke. “What is up with the depressing music?”

The bartender smirked and threw his towel over his shoulder. “What do you have against Patsy Cline, Miss Rey?”

“I don’t mind country, but doesn’t that sound a bit haunted?” I watched as he placed a napkin and then my drink in front of me. 

He glanced at the jukebox. A customer stood by it, smoking, his sable-brimmed cowboy hat low. Clyde’s eyes narrowed as the man set his ashtray on top of it. 

“Naw, it sounds like smooth whiskey.”

I took a sip and watched him decide whether or not to confront the patron. The bar was usually empty. I’d designed it that way, wanting to keep the noise low and ambient. Clyde’s hair was tousled, raven black, and he was wearing a long-sleeved checkered shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. 

“My boss wants me to work the weekend.” I diverted his attention back to me. “But I told him I had plans.”

His warm brown eyes watched me take another sip using the straw he’d put in. “Rey, you’ve put in enough hours. I barely see you.”

“I finished my new virtual game, Simulation Now.” I leaned on my elbows. “Should be on the shelves in six weeks.”

“Proud of you. I’d buy it, but—” He shrugged. “I don’t own a computer.”

“I talk computers all day long at work, I don’t want to here.” I took a sip and noticed the coke wasn’t coming through. It was cold, which was an improvement, but the taste wasn’t all there. I thought about trying to fix it now, but it would disrupt the routine, which I had been looking forward to. 

“Suits me,” Clyde said before he returned the rum bottle to its place. “Did you know blue jeans came from California?” He smiled, counting his supplies. “And the largest organism in the United States is a tree named Methuselah that resides in the White Mountains of Inyo.”

“You’d have an ace in your hand during Trivial Pursuit,” I said, and saw his white teeth flash as he rubbed his goatee. 

“Now, board games,” he said coyly as he leaned across the counter. “I might have some of those back at my place.” 

Our lips brushed, and I might have lingered longer, but a jingle drew our attention as the door opened. I pulled back, watching as Clyde took in the new arrivals.

Well, this was going to be fun.

Two men with black felt hats entered. Their Carhartt work shirts were covered in enough dirt that it was plausible they’d walked off a dude ranch. I grimaced as the older one spit on the ground. Okay, that was gross; I made a mental note to fix that later. They dusted themselves off while giving the room a cursory glance. Their steel-toed boots clicked on the worn floorboards as they approached.

“What’s your poison?” Clyde asked, moving down to where they had picked a pair of barstools two seats over from me.

“Whatever's on tap.” The oldest of the two, a man with a gold tooth, slid a silver piece across the table.

Clyde nodded, giving the men his back while he filled the order. The younger man swiveled in his seat slightly, taking me in. He took his hat off, his sandy brown hair falling into his eyes.

“You here alone?” he drawled.

“I am.” I eyed Clyde, whose shoulders had tensed. I knew he was listening. 

“What are you drinking?” He nodded at my barely touched glass. “That looks like water. Want something  _ stronger _ ?”

The implication wasn’t lost on me. I lifted my drink. “No, thanks.”

Clyde handed them both their beers. The one who’d been talking to me scooted off his seat to take the one next to me. I pulled out my phone to check work emails, ignoring the coming pick-up lines.

“Just got off shift,” he said, taking a long swig and setting the bottle down with a silent thud. “You look like a city girl.”

I saw the older man get up and head to the jukebox. He pushed a quarter in and borrowed a smoke from the man still leaning against the wall. I returned my attention to the other one, who was still trying to make small talk.

“Hey,” I said as I decided to speed things up. “Not interested.”

“Come on.” He sidled closer. “You just need to get to know me. What’s your name?”

“Ms. None-of-your-business.” I took a sip and typed a quick reply to Rose. Telling her not to come over. She’d been texting me non-stop today. 

I felt an unwanted hand on my thigh; when I tried to push it off, it tightened its grip. Clyde saw the move as well. 

“You know,” Clyde stepped over, bringing with him the hat the man had set down, “in Gunsmoke, the longest running TV show in history, the villains would always wear black cowboy hats.”

“Huh, didn’t know that.” The man reached for his hat, but Clyde’s arm darted out of reach. “Hey now, you give that back.”

“How ‘bout you return to your seat, and I will.”

“Fine,” the man said, glaring. He slid off the step and moved back to his spot, grabbing the hat with a dramatic flair and righting it back on his head.

I frowned. Clyde returned to wiping the counter. The jukebox was playing Alan Jackson’s “Neon Rainbow.” I set my phone down, wondering what mistake I’d made. Things should have escalated. 

Annoyed, I decided to change the music. I was more of a Garth Brooks girl—and only his early hits, “The Dance” or “Beaches of Cheyenne.” I’d finish the drink and then I would have Clyde kick the patrons out, or do it myself. Didn’t matter. 

The two men glanced at me when I approached. Instead of putting in another quarter, I punched in a code. An iPod-like screen lit up and I scrolled to my country playlist. 

The man with the sable hat moved so quickly I almost didn’t register the motion. His arms slid around me and his lips pressed to my throat.  _ What the fuck? _ I tried to speak, but a hand clamped over my mouth. 

I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it became vise-like.  _ Holy shit _ . I turned my head, trying to find Clyde. My attacker didn’t speak, just pushed me toward the back door that led to the outside. Not that we’d get far that way. Going out the back door would force a reboot and start the entire scene over. A safety measure, on the off chance the program froze. 

Situations like this reminded me of how dangerous the program could be. Why hadn’t I thought of an override measure for if I lost my voice? I’d screwed up, and now a character had taken control.

Angrier at myself than at my attacker, I struggled, kicking and flailing. What I had planned was a short bar fight; this was turning into an actual kidnapping. Hopefully Clyde would notice before we got too far. With just one pool table and two card tables, the bar could hardly be called spacious. 

_ Clyde, where are you? _ In response to my struggle, I was lifted off the ground, and he walked faster. He let go long enough to grab the door handle.

_ Son of a bitch. Factory reset here we come _ , I thought, irritated.

I heard Clyde before I saw him, his hands reaching out to grab my attacker around the throat. Before I had time to brace myself, I was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. The impact jarred me enough that it hurt. Times like this, I wished I could keep that out, but the areas of the brain that controlled pain also controlled pleasure, and you couldn’t have one without the other.

They grappled, slamming into the jukebox. It skipped and started playing Patsy Cline, “Crazy” again. I scooted out of their way, and just in time. Clyde struck a hard blow, and the man buckled before Clyde grasped his shirt, pulled him up, and knocked him out for good. The scene I wanted had finally played out—but with the wrong character. 

This was one of the reasons the board had raised ethical concerns, and for once, I had to agree. The still figure on the floor was a terrifying reminder that I was playing with fire. Not that I would quit—no lying to myself there—but I had a long way to go. 

“You okay, beautiful?” Clyde asked. His fist was bloody. The other two men started to approach—whether to talk or fight, I didn’t know, nor did I care.

“Cauliflower,” I growled. Everyone inside the bar froze. “Delete program character Sable Hat.”

“Are you sure you want to delete this character?” an automated voice responded.

I didn’t care that his program had taken hours of painstaking data entry to create. I would go through it later and find out where it had been corrupted. Characters were never allowed to touch me like that.

“Character deleted.”

“Put characters Felt Hat One and Felt Hat Two back in the queue,” I ordered, rubbing my jaw.

The two men blinked out like a switched-off light. I stared at Clyde, whose gaze was fixed on me. It had been a really long day. 

I touched his cheek. “Sorry, love. I’ll get you cleaned up first.”

I was about to issue a reset to put him back behind the bar when my phone buzzed from next to my drink where I’d left it. I walked over and saw that Rose had texted me once again. This one I couldn’t ignore.

“Shit,” I said aloud.

“Exit program Falcon Bar.”

The sensation of falling for the brief second before my living room came back into focus never got easier. The room was bathed in a warm blue glow thanks to the only light in the spacious living room, my hundred-gallon aquarium. Seahorses were my favorite, and six of them bobbed around coral reefs and a sunken ship. The audio came in next, and I heard the buzz of someone pressing on the doorbell and not letting up.

Rose, my sister-in-law and former high school best friend, was apparently not taking my self-imposed solitude seriously. Reaching up, I pulled off the silver webbed hat, taking care with the two electrodes stuck to my temples. The box the contraption went into was already open on the coffee table next to me. I set it inside and locked it, secure in the knowledge that it couldn’t be opened without my fingerprints.

My gear safe and out of sight, I ground my teeth as the buzzer kept at its long grating sound. As soon as she left, I was having it dismantled.

My home security was voice activated on my cell phone. I wasn’t groggy, but the detachment of virtual reality always took a minute to shake off. Trying to hurry, I almost knocked my iPhone off of the coffee table. 

“Open front door,” I snapped, not even checking to see if it was her on my security camera. The buzzing stopped. I glanced at the time: 8:43 p.m. Late. 

Steeling myself, I waited for my unwelcome guest.

However, it wasn’t Rose who walked in; it was my brother. Which sucked for him, because I had no problem telling him how I felt about an unexpected visit. 

“Armie, what the hell?” I said. 

He was dressed in a white T-shirt and washed out jeans. His red hair was straggling down his face, and I realized it must be raining outside.

“I pressed that buzzer for two minutes straight,” he said accusingly. “Rose has been calling you all day. All week, in fact.”

I shifted back in my chair, rolling my stiff shoulders and wincing as I tried to get a better spot. I glared irritably at my older brother, but he wouldn’t balk under my daggered stare.

“Work has been busy.” I tapped the armrest impatiently. “I answered her texts.”

“Your boss called me,” he said, losing the anger. “Sis, this is serious.”

“I didn’t do anything illegal.” 

“You’re on administrative leave.”

“We’re having a disagreement.”

“Snoke said he’s been trying to call you. He doesn’t want to have to resort to lawyers, but—did you take company equipment home?” 

“No.” 

That was the truth. I had built my program from the ground up, and when they’d discovered my new project at work, they’d shut me down and had me removed from the board. Until they could figure out a clean way to fire me or pay me off, I suspected.

“I don’t understand, sis.” Armie sunk into a faded gray recliner that matched nothing else in my home. I wondered if he picked his father’s chair purposefully. “I teach kindergarten. You’ve always been several notches above me on the IQ spectrum, but don’t bullshit me on this. What’s going on?”

“I’m working on things. But nothing dangerous, and most of all, nothing stolen from my soon-to-be former company.”

“Fine, when he calls next, I’ll have one of my five-year-olds pretend to be my secretary.” Armie grinned, before the smile disappeared. “What about Ben? He said you sent him papers?” 

“We’re not fixable.” I didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking at the aquarium as a krill climbed across the sunken treasure box. “And I’m tired of waiting for him to figure it out.”

“Ben doesn’t care. You do. That’s what’s driving us all insane.”

“That I can’t be a wife?” I laughed. “I can’t—” I stopped. I hit the button on my wheelchair and powered it up. “Did my boss ask you to come over, or did he?”

Armie sighed but didn’t answer right away. “Rose is with Ben right now. He’s a mess. God dammit, sis, what’s going on?”

“I’m moving on with my life. The lemons it’s thrown me.” 

“Are you moving on from us too? Harrison is crawling now, and Carrie wants to show you her new haircut.” He pulled out his wallet and slipped out two pictures, handing them to me. “If you want, I could bring them over tomorrow.”

“You know I love them.”

“Do you?”

I turned my face as if he’d slapped me. But the accusation was warranted. 

“Sorry,” I said. “For everything.”

“Stop being a martyr.” Armie moved to crouch down, meeting me at eye level. “Now what’s this thing at work?”

“It was just a misunderstanding,” I hedged, but his blue eyes held my own, calling me on my lie. I chewed the inside of my cheek, deciding a little truth couldn’t hurt. “I was working on a side project. It’s nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” he pushed. 

“I found a way to make Simulation Now more lifelike. Engage the player on a virtual level. But it activates parts of the brain that mimic touch, taste, and even pain.” I shrugged. “It was deemed too dangerous, so I scrapped it.”

Armie studied me. I hated when he did that. “That’s it? Snoke isn’t a guy you want to mess with. I’ll be honest, his call to me sounded closer to a threat then concern.”

“He’s worried about bad press for his company. Simulation Now will be a game-changer. What I came up with is another outlet to it. If the press caught wind, they might shut him down.”

“Okay, I’ll accept that.” My brother’s expression shifted to concern. “But sis, you lied to me.”

“When?”

“You promised to go to therapy. Ben said you didn’t show up to one appointment.”

My cheeks reddened. “It wouldn’t have worked.”

“You  _ promised _ .”

“I-I can’t see him, okay?” I buried my face in my hands. “Please. I can’t.”

Armie’s hands were on my wrists, prying them gently away. I stared at him through blurred eyes. 

“Go alone. Without him. Work through this,” he said kindly, but with a small reprimand. “We never break our promises to each other.”

“If I do, will you accept the divorce?” I asked, watching him rise from his knees. “Please.”

“Accept, no. You guys are soulmates,” Armie said. “But I’ll be in your corner.”

“I’ll get a new therapist.” Already, I knew what I had to do. “Three months?”

Armie didn’t look happy. “Two times a week.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “It’s late…”

“You’re a night owl,” he countered, but I could tell from his body language that he was going to let it go. “Do you need help?” He glanced around. “I could make you dinner.”

“No.” I directed my wheelchair toward the front door. “Going to slip into bed.”

As we walked, I saw his eyes skirt to the photos of Mom and Dad. They were plastered everywhere, along with his and Rose’s wedding photos, Carrie and Harrison’s baby pictures. He stopped at my wedding photo. He took it off the wall as I started to protest. 

“I know you don’t keep these up for nostalgia. This doesn’t have to be a memory. I’d burn this house down, if I thought it would help,” he said, handing me the silver framed photo. “You hit a patch of ice. It’s a fucking miracle you’re alive. Stop acting like there was any other outcome.”

His eyes moved to a photo of our parents. I looked down at my wedding photo. The one where Ben was kissing my cheek. Two years ago. We had the fairy tale. Until I’d lost control while driving my parents to the airport. The semi had reduced my Subaru to scraps and my body into a shadow of what it used to be.

Armie patted his pocket, finding his truck keys. “Call Ben. You may be in the chair, but he’s just as broken as you are.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I seriously doubted it, but he leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Let me bring Carrie next time? Just her. She misses you.”

He shut the door.

I’d have my maid hang the picture back up tomorrow. I wheeled it with me to my bedroom and set it down next to my workstation. The computer itself was a work of art. It housed more than my boss, maybe soon my ex-boss, would ever know. 

The computer fired up and I punched in six passwords to get inside the master program. I didn’t trust Snoke not to one day try to hack into the system.

I never broke a promise.

It would take a few days. I brought up Clyde’s code and smiled; Ben had sported a goatee when we both were in college. I had made his hair longer, but it was still a perfect replica. I hadn’t wanted to call him Ben; it was just his image, not his soul. But I missed us, and I couldn’t be weak and break down. This was my alternative, my way to live the rest of my life. Small fantasies. 

I used a random name generator. It spun for a second, then blinked red. Bart Allen. Ugh. That was terrible. I spun it again. Albin Killjoy. Worse. I spun. 

Kylo Ren.

I liked that. 

My new psychiatrist. 

The tapping of my computer keys persisted long into the night as I brought him to life.


	2. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos. Art by OwBenSolo on Twitter.

“Mrs. Solo.” 

Politely, Kylo gestured for me to enter his office. He was dressed in a suit, formal, but not so much that it looked like he was going to take me to prom. Violin music played above my head in the empty waiting room where I sat. I hadn’t added a secretary; creating this much had taken every bit of my spare time. 

I rose from the couch and followed him into the room. Instead of giving him a script with lines, I had downloaded books upon books of psychology, lifespan development, and rubrics of counseling for him to follow. On top of that, I’d given him my daily logs and access to my medical records. My self-created psychiatrist would know me better than any real-world therapist ever could. 

I wasn’t sure how this would go, or if I would even enjoy it. If it didn’t work, I’d scratch it and start over tomorrow. But my promise to my brother would be fulfilled, and then I could get on with my divorce.

When I stepped inside, I stopped. The design was wrong. I had constructed a simple office with a chair and couch. This office was spacious. Two chairs, a massive oak desk and a fireplace. Above me, a second floor was filled with rows and rows of books. The walls were bland, devoid of art. I stared at this new development, unsure if I should go check the program.

“You must pardon the change. The specs you had originally orchestrated, I felt would not make you feel as comfortable as an open floor design,” he said, moving to one of the two chairs by the fireplace.

“Wait...You did this?” I was baffled, not only by my surroundings, but also by my character, who seemed aware that he was part of a program.

“Yes,” Kylo said. “You sent me everything about you. Including your original ideas for the creation of Simulation Now.”

“You know you’re a computer program?” 

“I am here to help you. I exist because you created me.”

I moved to the opposite chair, intrigued. This had never occurred to me, that a character would accept their universe as part of the program dialogue. While not an ID consciousness, it mimicked it enough that I wondered how much depth the schematics I’d given would bring to his personality.

“My brother wanted me to see a psychiatrist,” I said. “So that’s why we’re here.”

“Promises are very important to you,” he said, taking a seat and watching me as I joined him. “Do you think I can help you?”

“Can you make me walk again?” I said sardonically. 

He didn’t take the bait, his face expressionless. “You made yourself walk again. In here. This is a cocoon, don’t you think?”

“A cocoon would suggest metamorphosis, a change,” I countered.

He nodded. “A woman in a wheelchair rests behind this avatar. The program transformed you.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Let’s talk about Clyde.”

“Clyde?” I assumed we’d talk about Ben, or the accident, or even my broken body.

“Why did you create him?”

I stared at the empty fireplace, the logs nestled inside stagnant, waiting on the flame. 

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “Ben did.”

“You made this avatar before the accident?”

“When I first started working on Simulation Now. I did it for fun. He’s a detective, but he patrols the dark web, and—” I paused, realizing I was explaining things he already knew. “We both made avatars, but he wanted his to look like his college days, back when he worked as a part-time bartender.”

“You log ten to twenty hours a week with him.” He leaned back, his hands clasped, crossing one leg over the other. 

My lips tightened. 

“You’ve never called him Ben. Not once.” He watched my face. “And while I was also made in your husband’s image, I already find you do not think of me as such.”

“I’m not delusional,” I snapped.

“No,” he agreed. “But you have, on more than one occasion, set up roleplay with him. Could we talk about that?”

I shifted, feeling shame.

“Nothing is recorded here. You and I talk, but this is your program. Why not be honest?” he said. “You have the unique luxury of knowing I am in your control. At any time, you can exit.”

My own program was schooling me. It was paradoxically funny to find myself in such a situation. I laughed, unable to stop myself. I had created my own therapy and was now balking at it. 

I wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands when I could control myself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled. “You and I will hopefully have many sessions. It is good for us to work out the awkwardness.”

“I do,” I said, answering his earlier question. “Roleplay. Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“Depends.” Kylo smoothed a wrinkle in his slacks, an oddly personal touch that distracted me before I returned to meet his gaze. “Do you understand the need he is fulfilling for you?”

“The sex?” I hadn’t created the program for that, but after a kiss or two, it had seemed the natural course. 

“If it was just that, you would exit after the sex,” he said, bobbing his foot in a rhythm. “Tell me why the program automatically signs you off after two hours?”

“Safety measure,” I answered. “The program is new. I don’t know the long-term consequences of staying too long in the simulation.”

“You have no data whatsoever, which makes you a guinea pig of sorts.” He sighed, stopping the tapping of his foot. “Almost every night you log in, meet with Clyde, roleplay, have sex, and fall asleep, allowing the program to kick you out naturally.”

“Yes.” I tried to keep my face neutral. There was nothing wrong with admitting that. “I have trouble sleeping, and I don’t want to take medication for it. I find it works, falling asleep with him.” 

“Would you say it’s a true statement, that if permitted, you would allow the simulation of Clyde to stay in your bed all night?”

I almost said no, but that would be a lie. Might be a lie. “I don’t know.”

“As children, we use nightlights,” he said. “You married a cop.” 

My fingers clenched the armrests of my chair. My ears might be playing tricks on me, but that almost sounded like an accusation. That wasn’t why I had married Ben. I’d married him because he and I struck up a conversation in an insanely long ticket line as we waited to get into a Brooks and Dunns concert.

“His job didn’t matter. I’d never met anyone like him, and—” I stared at my hands, feeling a deep pang of sadness that I had been pushing down for the last year. “True love, or something like that.”

“You still feel that way?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I studied my shoes, noticing I needed to update them; the tennies had no laces. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Kylo didn’t press me; in fact, he appeared to be contemplating his next words. It was unsettling. Clyde would repeat lines at times, or look at me without seeing me. But Kylo was different. I leaned forward, studying him. Curious.

“You and Ben connected on many levels. Computers, degrees, and even sexually, you both—” He watched me lean forward and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Enjoyed a certain lifestyle.”

“Clyde doesn’t have any tics. Over the months, I’ve added more reactions, but this...You’re going completely off book,” I said excitedly.

“Would you say you two were compatible?” he asked, and I thought I heard irritation. 

“Yeah.” I really needed to check out his program. So many variables. This could be something big. 

His jaw twitched. “Rey, I cannot help you if you cannot focus.”

“I-I’m just, I never imagined you’d be so human.” I stood up, invading his space. “You have such lifelike tics, and your speech. It’s following a unique algorithm.”

I reached out to touch his face, but one of his large hands caught mine, gripping it almost to the point of pain. I froze. 

“Rey, this is therapy. If you wish to work, exit the program.”

“Let go.” I twisted my wrist, but he held firm.

“I will, but do not touch me again. Not without my permission.”

It was a program, not a person with feelings. I knew I shouldn’t feel guilt or withdraw. I hesitated; the freeze code for the therapy room was “red.” He saw my indecision.

“Before you say the code and exit, maybe for now, maybe for good, let me offer you parting wisdom. You are still in the cocoon. You haven’t sprouted wings or changed yet. But it will go one of two ways: you will either accept my help and accept yourself outside this reality, or you will stretch the two hours with Clyde until that reality becomes your own.”

“Red!” I tried to say, but it came out a half-strangled scream.

He froze, still holding my wrist, his eyes locked on mine. I was breathing heavily, angry.

“Delete character Kylo Ren.”

“Are you sure you want to delete character Kylo Ren?” the automated voice droned.

I stared at him. Willing myself to say the damn words. 

“No,” I aborted the command. “Exit Therapy Room.”

I was back in my living room. The sound of my dishwasher churning kept the room one step removed from complete silence. Why was the dishwasher going? The maid shouldn’t have been there yet. 

_ Shit _ . If she was here, I would have to find out how much she knew.  _ How did she even get in?  _ I had to let her in, as with all my guests. My house was well protected. Quickly, I put my hat and electrodes into the box, locking it.

I noticed two wine glasses sitting out.  _ Ben?  _ There was no way. My own brother didn’t even have the codes. There was a faint sound of footsteps as someone moved around.

If Ben had seen me out cold with the device, we’d have to discuss what would no doubt be a giant can of worms. Already I felt a throbbing in my temples. Was a fucking day. Could it get any worse?

At least I wasn't in my pajamas. My morning aide had put me in my usual long-sleeve shirt and yoga pants. My hair wasn’t a wild mess, but tied back neatly in a tight braid. At least I looked civil enough for what would probably be an epic fight. I moved toward the kitchen.

The fridge was open, the intruder obscured by the door when I entered the kitchen, but hearing my chair he straightened, revealing himself.

I gaped at him; it wasn’t Ben or the maid. My boss, Snoke Palpatine, shut the refrigerator door, pulling out a block of cheese. I noticed a plate of olives, fresh bread, and salami on the counter. He’d been here long enough to root through my house and make a makeshift dinner. 

“Rey, you’re finally back with us.” His voice was mockingly kind, but his eyes were as shrewd as ever. “I was getting worried. Afraid I might have to intervene.”

“What are you doing in my house?” I tried to sound angry, but my voice quivered. “How did you even get in?”

Snoke was a large spindly man who often reminded me of a spider. He didn’t answer my question right away, placing the cheese on a marble cutting board. He wore robes patterned with rich gold and ruby stripes; it made him look like a modern sultan. He didn’t wear them because he was eccentric. At some point in his life, he had been badly burned, and the soft layers were the only thing he could stand on his skin.

Without searching, he walked over to the drawer where I kept my knives, alerting me to the fact that he’d taken time to get to know the layout. When he sliced into the cheese, he met my expectant gaze. 

“I designed this security system. You didn’t answer the door or the buzzer. Forgive an old man for checking on his favorite employee.”

My eyes narrowed. “ _ Favorite _ is a choice word.” 

His thin lips peeled into a smile that sent a small shiver up my spine. “I had to make it seem like I was shutting you down. Come on, my dear. You dropped an ethical time bomb into the board’s lap.”

“I would have been open to suggestions,” I said, watching him warily. “You didn’t have to shun me. And you broke into my house, for what, to say sorry?”

“I brought wine. Let’s discuss a new role for you in the company.” He moved around the island, indicating for me to follow him back to the living room. Part of me wanted to kick him out, but something told me it wouldn’t be that easy. 

A knot twisted in my stomach. How deep was the shit I was in? I noticed him pause to straighten a crooked frame on my wall. His obsessive-compulsive nature was well known at the office. I studied my living space and could tell he’d been hard at work while I was out. The books on the TV stand were in order, the magazines on my table had been organized in a neat stack, and my mess of mail was in two piles for bills and junk mail.

He handed me a glass and took a seat, taking the recliner I had recently bought instead of my father’s old one. He swirled the liquid in his glass, raising it to me. 

“Imported from Italy, 1898. Good year.” 

He didn’t drink, and for a second I worried he’d drugged it. However, if he wanted to drug me, he would have done it already. I took a sip and watched him do the same.

“It’s good.” I cupped the base, feeling it coat the back of my throat. “You called the meeting. What do you want to discuss?”

“You erased the data on your computer, all the research for your latest project.” His tone was light, but I knew him too well not to hear the rage underneath it. “I take it that silver cap on your head was a crude product of your invention?”

“Legally, I know better than to answer that question.” I took another long sip. 

“Smart girl,” he said. “I knew it the first time I saw your portfolio. Picked you up before you’d even made it through grad school.”

“Yes, you got your golden egg from me. Simulation Now will make you rich,” I said, cautiously. “I’ve only ever asked for my ten percent of the profits.”

“Oh, my dear, once I saw what you’d created, I knew Simulation Now would only be the tip of the iceberg.” His eyes lit up. “Collaborate with me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Money?” I had enough of that. I wasn’t fabulously wealthy, but my bank account had six figures.

“Power, my dear. You would move beyond the reach of the board, become my apprentice. I’ll teach you how to run an empire.” He lifted his glass. “Another twenty years, this company could be yours.”

“Don’t feed me false hope,” I cut in sharply. “Don’t you want someone young and virile?”

“I want someone ruthless. You’ve changed. I can see a spark of what I once felt. The world is cruel, and you’ve accepted that philosophy. Let me show you how to meld it into something that will drive you as far as you can go.”

“Generous offer,” I said, feeling both intrigued and wary. “All this in exchange for my latest project?”

He stood up, finishing his glass. “We are very much alike, you and I. I’ll come back in a week. I’d like a demonstration. Set up something for me to run through.”

“What if I say no?” I asked.

He moved toward me, languidly, and my hand almost backed up the wheelchair in response. He didn’t have a weapon, but the hairs rose on the nape of my neck, and for a second I truly feared his intent. When he crouched down at my level, his eyes were cold, reminding me once again that I was a bug trapped in a spiderweb.

“There’s no recorder in this room. The police will find no evidence of me here. And I have alibis that will vouch for me six ways from Sunday.” I flinched back as a clawed hand touched my cheek, and his voice became deceptively gentle. “You are a beautiful woman. I would hate to show you my cruelty.”

“Get out,” I spat, but his fingers batted my hand away when I reached for the joystick on my wheelchair.

“So how about next Tuesday, hm?”

I nodded, just wanting to get him out of the house. 

“Good girl. How about you wear something nice for me? Dress up a bit more.” He tilted my chin. “Or maybe, without a husband, you want me to take you upstairs now.”

His fingers were close enough to my lips; I bit them hard. He cursed, drawing them back, before returning with a retaliatory slap, knocking the glass of wine out of my hand as my head knocked back. One large hand grasped my throat, choking me, muffling my scream. Spots danced before my eyes and I coughed hard. He kept shifting the pressure, enjoying every minute; I could only focus on getting the next breath.

Finally, he let go. When I hunched over, clasping my throat, his fingers threaded through my hair, grasping it at the nape, forcing me to crane my head back. 

“This is a taste, my dear, only a taste. Would you like to bite again?”

“No,” I whispered, my throat bruised. 

He kissed my forehead. “There now, I don’t want to hurt you. Tuesday we’ll start over. And Rey, if you call the cops and try to report me, or cancel the appointment, I’m afraid I can’t guarantee their safety.” He pulled two pictures from inside his robe. It only took me a second to see that they were the ones my brother had given me. 

I was so numb I couldn’t even feel it when he kissed me. The taste of wine and sour breath lingered when he broke away. He picked up my spilled glass, refilling it before telling me to enjoy the spread. 

I broke down when the front door closed. He was gone. 

My hands were shaking, and without thinking, I snatched up my phone from the table and dialed a number I hadn’t purposefully called in months.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Rey.”

Ben said my name. Not angry, not irritated. Hopeful. Concerned. I closed my eyes, wanting so badly to tell him to come over.

“Sweetheart, please talk to me.” 

Tears spilled down my cheeks. My breathing must have alerted him that I was still on.

“I-I tore the papers up you sent,” he said. “We can get through this. Just tell me what I can do—”

“Stop talking,” I finally broke the silence. 

I heard him take a deep breath, but he didn’t hang up. 

“Tonight, if I ask something of you, would you do it?”

“Anything.”

Wondering if I was making the worst mistake of my life, I told him.

Evening came. I slipped into bed using a slider board, shrugging my pants off and tossing them on the floor. It had been a year now; the muscles had atrophied enough that I knew no surgeon would ever be able to save them. I watched the streetlights turn on outside my window. 

He was too big of a man to be stealthy, even if he was a cop. I smiled hearing him try. I’d left the front door unlocked for him. The darkness would keep him from seeing my bruised neck and swollen lips.

The door opened, and I worried for a split second that he’d break his promise. For a long minute I heard nothing, but I didn’t glance over my shoulder to look. Instead I wondered if he was deciding whether he really wanted to do this.

There was a rustle of clothing, and the comforter was pulled up as he slid in bed. Ben’s breath was hot on my skin and his arm wrapped around me for one brief second as he kissed my shoulder, pressing his forehead against the back of my head.

Then, true to his word, he rolled over. Keeping to his side of the mattress. 

The sound of his breathing was just enough that I could sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments and kudos. It's been one of my favorites to write and considering my other works, one of the few with a clear HEA.

“You okay?” asked Clyde, refilling the pretzels in the bowl next to me. “You haven’t taken a sip of your drink.”

“I did something stupid last night,” I admitted, picking up my rum and coke. When I took a sip, I reminded myself that I still needed to fix the code to bring out the flavor. 

He had on the same clothes as last time; I hadn’t updated his wardrobe, nor had I added any type of drama for us to interact with. The bar was empty. Clint Black’s “Like the Rain” droned away overhead. 

“We all make mistakes. I bet yours wasn’t so bad.” He made his way over to me. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” I said. “I created Kylo Ren for that.”

“Kylo who?” His brow furrowed, but before he could say another word, I grasped the collar of his shirt and kissed him.

A minute later, Clyde had picked me up and set me on the green felt of the pool table, where he helped me pull my shirt off. He started to unlatch my bra, but I shook my head. 

“Leave it on.” I didn’t feel like foreplay. He nodded and pulled off my jeans, leaving me in my underwear. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, using one hand to push me onto my back. His lips trailed down the inside of my leg; despite my efforts, he was taking his time. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I pictured Ben. 

He pulled gently at my underwear. I let him take them off. 

The jukebox switched to the next song.

_ Crazy. _

_ I’m crazy for feeling so lonely. _

_ I’m crazy. _

_ Crazy for feeling so blue. _

His tongue delved deep between my legs and circled my clit, making me clench my fists, feeling that sure start to a climax. I stared at the ceiling, a bland white wall with fluorescent lights. There wasn’t a crack on it, or even the stained yellow color it should’ve become from all the customers who smoked. 

_ I knew  _

_ You’d love me as long as you wanted. _

_ And then someday _

_ You’d leave me for somebody new. _

My eyes blurred.  _ What the fuck?  _

Clyde didn’t notice; instead he curled his hands around my thighs, drawing me closer to him. The ebb between my legs didn’t intensify. I shifted, trying to go back to just  _ feeling _ . 

_ Ben slept in my bed.  _

Stupid. I was letting him back into my life because I was afraid of Snoke; that was all. It was just an error in judgement. I would call him tonight and tell him not to come over. It would be cruel to lead him on. Right now I needed to calm down, take off the edge; I just needed relief. An hour with Clyde and I’d feel a lot better. I tried once again to will my mind to go blank.

_ I’m crazy for trying. _

_ And crazy for crying. _

_ And I’m crazy for loving you. _

A sob escaped my throat. I tried to sit up but couldn’t; the angle Clyde had on me kept me down. I grasped his hair, trying to tug him up, but he wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, I used my foot to push at his shoulder, but it was like kicking a solid brick wall.

“Ben, knock it off!” I shouted, then clamped a hand over my mouth.

Clyde finally looked up. He let go of my thighs and took a step back. His program had responded not to the name, but to the command to stop. I took a deep breath, gripping the rim of the pool table. 

“Sorry,” I said, out of instinct.

“You okay?”

“Yes—well, no.” I wiped my eyes. This wasn’t the first time I’d cried in the program. Adding the tears had helped me stay there, in the moment, without reminding myself that it was all an illusion. “I’m sorry, can we just have sex?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Sure”—His fingers worked his pants loose—“if that’s what you want.”

I didn’t trust myself to say anything. Opening my legs, I let him hook his hands around my thighs again and lift me up. He was hard, and would stay hard till I told him to finish. I pistoned myself on him in one thrust and wrapped my legs around him, burying my face in his neck. He moved me from the pool table toward the wall, pressing me against it for the leverage as he worked his hips back and forth.

He grunted now and then, but when he spoke, the line never changed. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered for the third time in my ear.

The repeated line made me look at him. His brown eyes stared at me as he moved at a steady tempo. He smiled, but it was the same smile he gave me when he poured my drink. 

“Finish,” I said, and looked away.

He made a satisfied noise and gently, he pulled out. I slid down, breaking away from him when my feet touched the floor. 

“That was nice.” His voice was warm and sweet as honey. “Can I make you a drink?”

I plucked my underwear from the floor. I could just reset and be dressed, but actions like this I couldn’t do at home. When I pulled them up, I turned to find he’d gone back to his place behind the bar.

_I should log off. Call Ben and tell him coming over was a mistake_. The music had long since ended, and Kenny Chesney now sang about summer. What was wrong with me? This was my cocoon, goddammit.

“Therapy Room,” I said, not caring if I showed up in a bra and underwear. 

I blinked and the waiting room was around me. Mozart was playing. Odd, the track I chose should have just looped.

The door opened, and I expected a “Mrs. Solo” type greeting. Instead, Kylo was dressed in a white shirt, slacks, and socks. He saw my state of undress and his lips quirked down.

“I’m not Clyde,” he said dryly, “if that’s why you’re here. It would be detrimental to our work here if you programmed me as a lover.”

“I called Clyde Ben.” I felt my face grow hot with shame. “And—” I took a deep breath. “I told my husband he could sleep over. I’m terrified right now. And I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“Come in,” Kylo said after a small pause. “I’ll get the fire going.”

I followed him inside. His office was the same, except a piece of art now hung on the wall. Two eagles with their talons locked together in what looked like a dive. Instead of going to the fire, I approached the painting. 

“They’re not fighting,” he said, and when I looked at him, he indicated the birds. “It’s part of their courtship ritual. If they don’t break before they hit the earth, they’ll die.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said, heading to the same spot I’d taken last time. The heat from the fire reached me easily from the hearth. The flames twisted and crackled without repetition. I curled up in my seat and watched them dance, as perplexed at this as I had been with Kylo’s humanlike tics.

“What’s caused such a cataclysm in your life?” he said, resting in his seat. His eyes wandered over my form and met my gaze.

“Snoke,” I confessed, touching my cheek where he’d hit me, then remembering that here, there wouldn’t be a bruise. “He paid me a visit.”

His knuckles clenched the armrests of his chair, but his face stayed impassive. “Your boss came over?”

“Yes.” I shivered, remembering. “He threatened me. He wants—” I waved around the room. “He wants this.”

“I see.” Kylo’s eyes strayed to the fire. “How badly did he hurt you?” The words were quiet, almost inaudible.

“He didn’t,” I lied. Thinking about my boss’s hands all over me, the threat of more violence, made me feel dirty in ways I couldn’t express.

The logs blackened, shriveling as if the flame were really eating them. Another time, I would want to investigate it, but right now the trainwreck of my life had made me apathetic to my program's strange anomalies. Kylo didn’t engage, and I noticed his foot was bobbing again, as if he was thinking.

“I was wrong to allow Ben to come over, wasn’t I?”

Kylo’s foot went still. He took a deep breath, his hands relaxing into his lap. The way his eyes watched the fire made me think of Ben. When he’d get quiet after an awful day at work that he couldn’t talk about; I could always tell when he was holding something back. 

“To answer that, we’ll need to ask harder questions. Can you do that?” Kylo asked.

“I can try.” 

The worst part of my life wasn’t the accident; we could talk about that till the cows came home. My parents’ death, and even my role in it, I’d accepted. We could even discuss the surgeries, the pain of healing, the physical therapy, the first days at home. Yes. There was a deep well of things we could talk about, that I was able to talk about.

“You and Ben had only been married a year, together for five,” Kylo said. “Your accident must have felt like a particularly cruel blow then.”

“I can’t be a wife.” I shrugged. “We’d be friends at best.”

“Physically, you cannot achieve orgasm through intercourse. And you will never bear children,” he disclosed what he’d gathered from my medical records. “Is this what you mean by ‘I can’t be a wife?’”

“We hiked, rock climbed, and did marathons together,” I said. “Now any vacation we have will have to be wheelchair accessible.”

“You would adapt. This program is as much a crutch as any mobility aid you need outside it.” Kylo gestured to my legs. “You will find that Clyde, or whatever character you put your husband's face on next, will never scratch more than the surface of what you’re trying to itch.”

“Better than my lukewarm—” No, I corrected myself. “—nonexistent relationship with Ben. I’m freeing him from the vows. I don’t need a husband who’s nothing more than a glorified caretaker.”

“Tell me about your life before. Were you happy?”

“Happy.” I rolled the word on my tongue, remembering. Ben holding me on our wedding day. The first time we made love, a week after we started dating, when we’d only meant to kiss in his car. The way his eyes would light up every single time he saw me come home. 

“Yes, I was.”

“You don’t think that happiness is reachable now?”

“Ben thinks it’s the wheelchair.” I laughed, and watched as confusion flitted across Kylo’s face. “So does my brother—and well, everyone else.”

“It is the biggest change in your life.”

“No.” I balled my fists. “I may be the one asking for the divorce, but he asked for it the moment he stopped being the man I married. I never stopped wanting—” The confession almost slipped out.

“Sex?” Kylo asked.

“Intimacy.” I met his gaze. “I can’t be a wife because he won’t let me, and I’m not a good enough person to be his friend in this relationship.” 

My words seemed to have silenced him. The expression on his face shadowed in. His stiff pose mirrored my own, but as a minute ticked by, a small smile touched his lips.

“Very well,” he said, meeting my eyes again. “I believe we need to start thinking outside the box.”

“Aren’t we already?” I slumped my shoulders, resting my cheek in the palm of my hand.

“This program gives you everything you ever wanted: legs to walk on, characters to control, and Clyde to stimulate you without any pesky emotional strings attached.”

“So I should quit the program, adapt.” I waved to him. “Delete you?”

“You may delete me, but this program is addicting, so I don’t think you will,” he said without inflection. “I would offer a solution. For Ben. For you.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Not exactly.” He smirked. “Come here.” He held out a hand to me.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to let go of your crutch. Because I wish for your husband to touch you tonight.” His dark eyes twinkled. “That is, if you still want him to.”

I pursed my lips, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, I decided I was intrigued enough; I slid out of the seat and went to him, taking his outstretched hand. It was warm and swallowed my small one. He let me get used to his touch before resting his other hand on my bare hip, drawing it around until it was below my navel.

“Here,” he said, trailing his fingers down to my underwear, making me shiver with a small tingle of pleasure, “is off limits.”

“Wait, what?” I couldn’t hide the petulance in my tone. “You want me to be chaste?”

“Not at all.” He kissed me above my navel and my eyes widened. “I want you to accept here is this world, and the real one, there is pleasure to be had.”

“I thought you said you weren't Clyde,” I reminded him.

“I’m not. And Clyde, I’m afraid, needs to be taken offline. You will come to me this week.”

“Every day?”

“We’ll see.” He kept me still. “If you follow the rules.”

The words made me feel an old thrill—a life I’d felt was almost a ghost, coming back unexpectedly. My pelvis throbbed as his tongue touched my skin, moving up ever so slowly. 

“What are you feeling?” he asked, blowing the skin dry where his tongue had just been. 

“Good,” I answered. “Move lower.”

“Are you trying to order me?” he arched an eyebrow. “You’ll have to exit the program and fix it yourself, if you want that.”

The light admonishment made me lower my gaze and shake my head; I’d never been worried about offending a program before. Satisfied, he continued, his fingers working my bra off. 

“You can feel pain and pleasure in this world.” His tone became serious. “What keeps you from being seriously hurt?”

“A dip in blood pressure, erratic pulse,” I answered. “Among other things.”

Kylo slipped off my bra. “I worry you could—” he cleared his throat, and cupped one of my breasts almost distractedly. “I’ve analyzed the measures you’ve implemented. There aren’t enough in place, but for now, I think this is safe.”

“I ran your specs,” I said, mostly to myself, but when he looked up sharply, I addressed him, bemused. “No anomalies, but you— You are so human.” 

“Rey.” His hand grazed my chin, drawing it up with the tip of his forefinger. “My human nature came about because I know everything about you. I know what you and Ben shared in the bedroom, and I’m going to use it to help you. Do I have your consent?”

His brown eyes watched me, holding me as still as his hand. Something warm coiled in my belly. “Yes.”

The consent given, he drifted his fingers down my spine, exploring the contours of my body. Like a painter, he traced my shoulder bones, drawing lines that felt like brushstrokes. For a fleeting moment, I forgot everything, and keened toward him.

“You want me to praise you, don’t you?” He grasped my wrists, bringing them to his lips, and peppered soft kisses on the inside; I had to concentrate to feel them. “That’s what you programmed Clyde to do.”

“Yes.” The blush wouldn't show in the program, but I felt it dusting across my cheeks regardless.

“Don’t expect me to be Clyde. There’s rules in this room. If you follow them, I’ll lavish you with everything you need.”

“And if I break them?” I bit my lip, feeling his fingers settle on my hips again. As if in answer, he silently ran them back up my spine, and this time they were less gentle—firm, the tips of the nails digging in. When I met his eyes, I understood the message. 

I nodded, and the touch became gentle again. Already teaching me to want it. Kylo paused, making me look at him expectantly. 

“First, rules,” he said. “You will have your sessions wearing clothes, and afterward, we’ll continue this.” He kept his hands still. All business. “Do you understand?”

“But—” I wanted him to kiss me again. I also wanted to find out why he was so damn intelligent. This wasn’t what I programmed.

“You’ll figure it out.” His lips quirked up slightly, answering the question I hadn’t even asked. “But I wouldn’t tamper too much with my code; you may damage the only program that can help you.” He pulled lightly on my wrist. “Now, show me that you want this.”

I stared at him, sinking to my knees. The lines were blurring; I saw Ben. Remembered the way he’d put a silk scarf over my eyes and tell me everything he was going to do to me before touching me. I shook the image away. Kylo had only accessed my journals; even he didn’t know me the way Ben had. 

He shifted in his chair and cupped my face in his hands. “No more control. This will only work if you allow me to take it from you.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You’ve been asking for this with Clyde, but you didn’t want to have him take on the role.” He brushed my cheek with his thumb. “Why?”

“The same reason I don’t call him Ben,” I answered honestly. 

“I’m not a substitute for your husband.” His voice was kind but firm. “Consider our arrangement a short period of transition.”

“What kind of—”

“No more questions,” he said sternly. “If it gets to be too much, you know how to freeze everything.”

I pressed my lips together. His command should have compelled me to say “Red,” but instead I tilted my head back and waited for him to continue. 

“So perfect,” he praised, bending down to kiss me. 

The heat of his mouth on mine was a kiss like I’d never felt before. It demanded I open to him, and when I did he began to explore, rolling the bottom of my lip between his teeth till I moaned. It wasn’t until I tried to take back control that he pulled away.

“No,” he corrected me. “Hands on my thighs. Don’t move them or I won’t kiss you again.”

Complying, I placed them flat, not sure if I should grip his slacks. 

“Ben, did he satisfy you in bed?” Kylo asked, his fingers gripping my chin. “Don’t think, just answer. The truth comes out naturally that way.” 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Did he praise you in bed?”

“All the time.”

“Did you like to be on top?”

“No.”

“Did he take you at least once a night?”

“Yes.”

“Did he often control the position?”

“Most of the time.”

“Ben being in control is what turned you on.”

My gaze went down. His fingers pressed hard enough to get my attention. I had expected reproval, but instead I found something more like empathy. 

“After the accident, what happened?” he asked quietly.

“He wouldn’t touch me unless I touched him first. And then he wouldn’t at all, not intimately, when the doctors told him I couldn’t have sex or kids.”

“What else?” he asked, his voice kind, as he wiped away a tear that trekked down my cheek before I knew I was crying. “What was Ben’s unforgivable sin? What happened on the day you moved out?”

“He was helping me undress.” The memory caught in my throat and I swallowed hard, trying to gather the words. “He used to undress me all the time. He loved when I wore clothes with lots of buttons…” I tried to wipe my eyes, but Kylo gently put my hand back on my thigh. 

“Keep going. You’re doing so well.”

“So that day, I wore a yellow dress with twenty buttons. I fixed up my hair and put on the perfume he’d bought me on our honeymoon.” I stared past Kylo, remembering. I saw the palm tree patterned sheets on the bed, the photo of our Hawaii wedding that I’d put up on the nightstand, mementos and tokens, everything I could think of to remind him of us. The hope for that moment of closeness seemed to break again, and my next words were bitter. “And he took everything off me with movements that were perfunctory. When he finished, I knew it was a chore, nothing more.”

“He was a fool,” Kylo said, bending down to touch his lips to mine, briefly. “Tomorrow we’ll start. But tonight—” He brushed under my eyes with his thumbs. “Give Ben something. Remind him.”

I opened my mouth, then remembered the rule. He nodded for me to speak. 

“I love him. I didn’t stop loving him when I left, but I can’t light a spark if he doesn’t want me like this.”

“Second chances in life are rare,” Kylo said, bringing me to my feet. “You’ve given Ben one. Now let him take it.” 

Hours later, I heard Ben enter my house. 

The bruising around my throat had turned an ugly purple. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I could see the shape of his hands on me. I’d always known there was something malevolent in Snoke, and now I knew how deep that vein ran in him. 

Tuesday was only six days away. I had no idea how to proceed, other than to give him what he wanted and hope he’d just take the program and leave.

This time, Ben undressed and slipped into bed without pausing. I could smell his cologne when he pulled hard on the sheets to get them unbunched and over our shoulders. The room was cool; I kept the temperature around sixty-five. I felt him tuck the blanket around himself, felt his warmth beside me. When his arm slipped around me, I grasped it, locking it in place around my waist. His body, so much larger than my own, pressed against me, a perfect fit. 

We slept.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos. I'm going to have this one updated pretty quick and finished.

“This feels like déjà vu, or something weird like that.” I tried to laugh as Clyde served me and Kylo our drinks at the bar.

Kylo didn’t touch his drink but nodded to my own. I lifted it to my lips and took a sip. He watched me drink it, arching an eyebrow. “Can you taste that?”

“Taste is the easiest of the senses to fool. It’s very close to pleasure in the brain, on the reward system. When I—if I’m ever able to market this program, I’ll have modules where users can taste the best food in Italy, or even their great-grandmother’s long-lost baklava recipe.” I grinned. “The code is pretty complex though. So far, I’m still trying to bring out the flavor of rum.”

“But sex?” Kylo asked, glancing at Clyde. “That, at least, seems to be functional.”

“It’s actually simple. I’m attracted to—” I waved toward Clyde, who was cleaning glasses that didn’t need cleaning for the millionth time. “I can’t program an orgasm. But I can feel him touch me and reproduce the sensation of intercourse.” 

“Can Clyde leave this program?” Kylo asked, the implication clear.

“Computer, put Clyde in the queue.” I ordered, and we were suddenly alone. “Do you want me to put some music on?”

“What’s Ben’s favorite song?” he asked.

“Depends.” I touched the bowl of pretzels. They didn’t have a flavor yet; it was all for show. A year, maybe two, and I could have a menu. “When it rained, it was Hank Williams. When we were on the road, it was Johnny Cash, and when he was having a terrible day, Patsy Cline.”

“What music would he like on a good day, on the best days?” Kylo asked, pushing his drink away.

“The worst.” I hid a grin, remembering. “He’d sing.”

Kylo laughed, and it felt natural, familiar.

“So,” I said, turning in my chair and letting my elbow rest on the counter. “Why are we here?”

“This place is your crutch.” He smiled, but his voice had lost its mirth. “If you and Ben are going to have a chance, it has to go away.”

“You want me to delete it?” The rum in my glass sloshed as I tried to make light of it. “Or just Clyde?”

Kylo didn’t answer the question. “There’s a bedroom here, isn’t there?” He scanned the room, his eyes falling on the back door. “There?”

“No, it’s not in the bar,” I said, realizing I didn’t want to tell him. “Just a bedroom. Nothing special.”

“Then show me.”

I stared at the ice that wouldn’t melt in my drink, feeling foolish. Kylo’s sat perfectly still, his drink sitting untouched in front of him. Maybe I needed to show him, just once. Therapy-wise, it would probably just lead to a bunch of psychobabble about my sex life.

I stood up. “Computer, home.”

The world dissolved around us and then we were there, in our bedroom—mine and Ben’s, I corrected myself. Kylo didn’t say anything. He stepped around me to lightly touch the turned-back comforter, the palm tree sheets underneath. My wedding photo, Ben and I posing wearing colorful leis, him kissing my cheek and I holding his arm, as the sun set in the background. Cliche photo, but it was us, so it didn’t matter. If I opened the curtains here, the same stupid sunset was forever trying and failing to dip below the waves. 

Kylo touched the photo and smiled. “Wonder of wonders.”

Puzzled, I watched as he patted the bed, indicating I took a seat. When I did, he sat beside me. 

“I need your consent. I would like to continue from where we left off in our last session.”

I glanced at my wedding photo, wondering if this could really help. Kylo seemed to read my thoughts. “You haven’t created anything you cannot have outside this virtual world. Let me show you.”

My hair never moved on its own accord here, but I could run my fingers through it and feel a silky texture. I tucked it behind my ears, knowing it would stay in place, and nodded. My heart beat faster when he touched my hands, which I had clasped tightly in my lap.

“I want to blindfold you and loosely restrain your hands.” His voice was calm as he brought out two silk scarves. “This will help you focus on touch.”

When he handed me the blue and red scarves, I examined them. They seemed harmless enough. I nodded again, and he pointed to my T-shirt. “Jeans stay on. Everything else, off.”

It only took a minute to tie my hands, and when it was done, Kylo moved the pillow a bit and had me lay down on top of the comforter. The bed had a brass frame, and my hands were bound to it with the blue silk—loosely enough that I was assured they were only a reminder to keep my hands above my head. 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, smoothing out the red silk in his hand.

“Yes.” I had butterflies in my stomach as he leaned down to tie the blindfold securely, taking away my sight. His hand stroked my cheek, reassuring me.

His free hand moved down, drawing a line on the border of my hips, reminding me of where he would touch.

His lips touch below my navel, nipping lightly at my flesh. A new sensation I didn’t expect. It didn’t hurt, but I squirmed and heard him chuckle. He kissed the spot and trailed a path up, nipping now and then, but avoiding my breast, which were already hard. 

When I arched a bit encouragingly, he cupped one breast and leaned close to my ear. “You’re going to have to earn that.”

“How?” I asked, but he flicked the nipple, a small bit of pain a light rebuke. 

“How, sir?” he corrected.

A buzz of pleasure coiled deep. Awaking me in ways I’d forgotten. I nodded, “Sir, please tell me what to do.”

For a second he played with the nipple, letting it roll between his fingers, bringing with it a moan from me as he lazily took his time. I wanted his mouth on it.

“More of that.” His nose rubbed along the slope of my jaw. Rewarding me with a light kiss, that I tried to draw into a deeper one. I felt the flick on the other nipple. But it didn’t deter me from trying again, when his lips lingered, and this time his fingers pinched.

My hands tried to draw down, but only because I wanted to bring him closer to me. “Not fair,” I muttered. 

His large hands caged my ribcage, running his thumbs lightly along, showing me how small I was under him. When his teeth grazed the tips, I started to plead, and he indulged me by finally pressing his lips over the top and drawing circles with his tongue.

I’ve always had sensitive nipples, and before the accident, Ben could about get me to the finish when he would do this. Now, with the blindfold, all I could do was focus on the sensation. He moved from the right one to focus on the left. 

I was enjoying it, when his mouth latched off I started to plead. His lips crushed on mine, his fingers moving to stimulate as he teased, his tongue swiping my own. When he broke away, his latch on each tip was less gentle, sucking hard and drawing pain with the pleasure.

But just when I felt close, he was gone. He nuzzled the side of my face, “I want you to picture Ben, not me, I want you to say his name. Can you do that?”

My breath hitched, this was something I’d never allowed myself, the fantasy within the fantasy. I wasn’t sure I could. Kylo’s hand circled each nipple keeping me on the edge, without losing the momentum.

“You’re almost there. You can have all of this without logging in. Let go, and you’ll never need this room again.”

His mouth was back, his hand pulling on the other nipple while his tongue lapped and suckled, the combination enough.

I wanted Ben, I wanted to be home in his arms. I didn’t want Kylo or Clyde, I’d brought them into my life trying to patch a bucket that would never hold water. When the climax came I called out my husband’s name, because I wanted it to be him.

When it ended, I exited the program, needing to cry alone. It was grief of a sort. A realization of what I’d done, what I’d almost lost.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments and kudos. They mean a lot. I'll be posting the last chapter tomorrow night.

“Tell me about the program,” Kylo said.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. He’d invited me to sit, but I was restless, feeling the ticking clock of Snoke’s threats over my head. I felt unsure if I should be wasting my day on therapy when there were so many more pressing things going on.

“Don’t you know all about it already?” I was by the firepit this time, studying the inside. There were soot stains, and I smelled a faint hint of woodsmoke—small details that had no business being there without my say-so.

“If I was a stranger on the street, how would you describe it to me?” Kylo tried again, his voice patient.

I knelt down. I was in a dress today—a frivolous waste of time, as Kylo probably didn’t care what I wore. Still, I had found myself wanting to look pretty. Now that I had arrived, though, I was trying to not feel like a moron. This was therapy, not a date.

“My brother Armie calls it a human upload.” I touched the inside of the pit and found, to my relief, the soot wasn’t real enough to blacken my fingers. 

“You worked for Empire Enterprise for four years. This program was not received well.” He was relaxed, his posture almost lazy as he rested, one leg crossed over the other, watching me explore. “You weren’t close to anyone there, no friends?”

“It’s pretty cutthroat. Snoke believes adding pressure, deadlines, and unrealistic goals is what creates diamonds for his company.” 

I waved a hand, seeing if the flames would turn on. I even tried saying “Fire!” but nothing sparked. I could just ask Kylo to turn it on for me, but as the master controller of the program, I felt it should be something I could access. 

“Maybe Finn.” Giving up, I tucked my feet under me and leaned back on my arms. “He was my intern for the last two years. I think he still works there.” I hadn’t tried to call him since the accident. He was a nice guy, and hopefully one of my colleagues, Poe or Phasma maybe, would take him on. He’d been one of the most promising recruits from IT that we’d had in a while.

“Would you like me to start the fire?” he asked finally.

“Is it voice activated?”

“No.”

“Button?”

“No.”

“Clapping?” I half-joked.

“Close.” He smirked.

Before yielding to him, I clapped, just to make sure. Nothing. I snapped my fingers. Nothing, but his smile widened when I did it. I tried both fingers. Nothing.

The floor was plush carpet, and I ran my fingers through it. “This is nice. Floorings are pretty easy to make, but the fire, that’s a bit more complex. Did I leave a file hanging around? Is that how you created this?”

“Let’s talk about the fire. Do you think it could hurt you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t make it, you did,” I teased him, but his eyes were serious. “No, not unless I programmed myself to feel burned, and then it gets tricky, because I’d have to program my avatar’s skin to react to the flame.”

“What keeps you from being seriously hurt here?”

“Dip in blood pressure, erratic heartbeat.” I named a few. “It’s not perfect, but I don’t design things that can hurt me.”

“In Greek mythology, Pandora held a box, much like the box that you hold now.” Kylo started working one of his shoes off as he spoke. 

“You think I’m going to unleash an evil of biblical proportions onto the Earth?” I laughed. Now he had taken one shoe off and was removing the other.

“What if I wanted to interrogate someone? I could bring them here and use the fire, or something worse, to get information.” He grasped the inside of his shoes and brought them to the side. “The military would love a tool like this, one that wouldn’t leave a visible scar.”

“I don’t plan to allow pain, pleasure, or anything more than a few simple sensory features, like smelling a rose, or tasting a soda,” I countered.

He stood up and walked over to me, his hands in his pockets. “What if I wanted to live out my darkest fantasy? You could bring the dark web to life here. Clyde for you, but for some creep out there, it’s a five-year-old girl. It’s not a real person, so who cares, right?”

Of course I’d thought of such things. I wasn’t an idiot. Our company would have to protect the software with copyright and licensing. We’d put it through several trials already and made sure it was safe, the product the consumer would receive—that it couldn’t be tampered with.

Kylo knelt down on the floor with me. “I know you think you can keep the lid on the box, but it’s impossible.” He snapped his fingers three times, and the flame ignited in the fireplace. “Look how much is out of your control already.”

I stared at the fire. Tentatively, I reached out a hand, feeling the warmth, wondering if it would burn me. He watched as my fingers ventured closer to the flames. When I hesitated, he touched my knee lightly.

“Not sure, are you?”

“I won’t be the only one to develop this, this kind of program.”

“Then let someone else be Pandora. You could keep the box closed.”

I didn’t tell him that wasn’t a possibility. Snoke wouldn’t let me keep this treasure to myself. Kylo let me scoot next to him, one arm drawing me close. I wondered if he was going to start the other therapy now. Or maybe that had been some kind of fluke, an error that had since been patched.

“Are you in danger?”

He asked so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him.

As I watched the fire flicker uncannily, an idea came to me, one that was both terrible and ingenious. “I think Finn is the one who turned me in,” I whispered, reaching out and touching the fire, this time without hesitating. “I don’t blame him, but I wish he’d come to me first.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It wasn’t just torture, pain, or even death that worried Finn, but something even more horrifying.” The flames, while warm, didn’t burn, and I watched as they danced around my fingers without affecting my skin. “He was worried about getting stuck. Not being able to leave the program. You could be trapped inside your own creation.” 

I touched my lips, remembering Snoke’s kiss. “I might have to open the box a bit,” I said, turning to look at Kylo. “Sometimes you have to let a little evil out to draw a monster in.”

He opened his mouth, no doubt to disagree, but I didn’t let him. 

“Pandora didn’t do so bad.” I snapped three times and the fire went out. “She saved hope, didn’t she?”

#

I exited the program shortly after; I’d realized what I had to do. My initial thoughts of deleting the bar and the therapy room were gone. I wasn’t trapped in a web—I was the spider, and this web was  _ mine _ . I grinned as my fingers tapped endlessly on the keys. 

Hours later, the sound of the buzzer shook me out of my reverie. When I checked the camera and saw Ben, it took me a second to figure out that he’d come at the time I’d asked him to. Shit. Asking him to go home now would be rude, and he might not come back. 

“One second,” I told him through the phone. I watched as he took a step back, surprised by the sound of my voice. 

Wheeling myself from my workroom, I moved towards my bedroom, rummaging for a scarf in my dresser. My cheek still had a faint bruise, but it wouldn’t be anything near as telling as the marks on my throat. Dim the lights, and he might not even notice. 

My aid had stopped by in the morning. Most things I could do myself, but she helped me in the shower and set up the stuff so I could self-cath. Little things. I wasn’t helpless. 

The scarf in place, I hit the unlock button on the door, allowing him inside. I was in a tank top and yoga pants, loungewear. I was unsure if I should crawl into bed now or wait, but it was decided for me when Ben made his way down the hall. 

The door was already open, and he met me with a cautious hello as he shadowed the doorframe, waiting to see if he could step inside. He’d lost weight, and not in a good way. His eyes, warm as honey, were the same, and they wandered over my body, checking me as I looked him over. When they came to rest on my neck, I could tell the scarf wasn’t fooling him.

“Did you just get off work?” I asked; he wasn’t wearing work clothes, but I struggled to find something else to say.

“No, um. Took some time off. The paperwork—” He stopped. “I put it in the garbage disposal.”

“Ben—” I snapped, but stopped myself. “I could make some popcorn. We could watch some spaghetti westerns, or…” I felt shy all of a sudden, as if I was asking him out. “If you're tired, we could just go to sleep.”

He grinned boyishly. “The popcorn, is it the extra butter kind?”

“Is there any other?” I laughed as the tension between us broke.

An hour later, Clint Eastwood had a cigar perched precariously in his mouth on the big screen. For the first time, I sat on the couch. A pillow was tucked under my knees, the recliner all the way back as Ben, with his arm around me, tried his best not to voice over lines.

“You know, in Gunsmoke,” he said, taking a handful of popcorn from the silver bowl we were sharing, “the bad guys always wore black cowboy hats.”

“You and your bottomless well of facts.”

“Jeopardy still hasn’t accepted my application,” he grumbled. “After five years, I’m thinking it’s a no.”

“Keep trying. You never know, it could work out.” 

His eyes flitted to mine with the double entendre. 

“Think so?”

When he drew close, so slowly, it made me think we were teenagers trying to figure out how a kiss worked. His lips tasted like butter and salt. The warmth of his breath in my mouth made me thread my hands into his hair, drawing him close.

There was a blissful moment, and then his hands pulled the scarf off my neck.

I broke free from him, trying to cover the bruises with my hands, angry and terrified at the same time. But it was too late; he’d witnessed Snoke’s handiwork. His jaw tightened.

“You had no right,” I spat.

He didn’t say anything. He broke his gaze and stretched back into the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. The silver bowl of popcorn on his lap was shoved to the side as he blew out a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, lacing his fingers behind his head.

“Jesus, Rey.” He opened his mouth to say more, but couldn’t quite get it out. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard up and down. His eyes drifted to the TV, where a shootout was happening.

I should have known he’d pull a move like that. Kicking him out would be a short-term solution with long-term consequences. I needed a week, needed to buy enough time to prevent him from doing something stupid. 

“Ben. I need you to trust me.” I tried to keep my voice even, calm. “I know how this looks, and I know what you’re wanting to do.”

He didn’t reply, but reached for the remote and muted the TV.

“I can’t tell you what I’m going to do. I can’t tell you what happened, and if you try to force me, I’ll lie.” I wondered, after this, if he’d even talk to me again. Maybe we were back at square one.

“Guys like that won’t stop till they get what they want,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine again. “Did he—?” His mouth couldn't say the words and I shook my head, seeing momentary relief.

“I have a plan.”

“You can’t shoot him.”

“Who do I look like, Clint Eastwood?”

“Poison?”

“Give me more credit than that.”

“Hitman?”

He turned his head to look at me, grinning. “I would wear a black hat for you.” His voice joked, but his eyes were halfway serious.

“You’d look good in a cowboy hat.” I found his hand and laced my fingers through his. “I’m going to give Snoke exactly what he wants. That’s all.”

“When are you meeting him again?” he asked, drawing closer.

“Tuesday.” The movie still had another hour to go, but I no longer felt like watching it. 

“I need to be there.” 

I knew better than to argue with Ben when he got like this. Agreeing was my only option; I knew that, just as I knew Snoke’s and my transaction would be over before Ben even showed up. He’d hear the lie if I tried, so I stuck to the truth as best I could.

“My lawyer will be there too.” I touched my neck. “I won’t be pressing charges for this, though. It’s not a battle I want to fight. But I’m not afraid—not anymore.”

“Promise, Rey.” He brought my knuckles up to his lips, kissing them lightly. “You won’t do this alone.”

I hated myself in that moment. Because it was the truth; I wouldn’t be alone. But not in the way he thought. And so I promised, hoping he’d forgive me. 

“Could we go to bed?” I was tired to my bones. Ben switched the TV off. With care, his arms moved behind my back and under my knees. 

“Remember Hawaii?” he joked, bringing me back to our honeymoon. I knew exactly what he was referring to. The time we’d both gotten drunk and he’d suddenly had this great idea to bridal carry me to our hotel room. Except he’d taken the stairs, and our room was on the eighth floor.

I smirked. He’d been sweating buckets. By the fourth floor, I’d gotten worried he was going to drop me. And to pretend like it was no big deal, he’d sung our first dance song the whole way up. 

He hummed the tune now, nuzzling my neck as he carried me to my bed. “To Make You Feel My Love.” Garth Brooks might be a country staple, but each time I heard the words, it was always Ben’s voice. He’d managed to get through the entire tune by the time we made it upstairs.

We were a long way from that couple in Hawaii, but maybe not so far from the road back there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the finale. Hope you enjoy! Art by Bean on Twitter. Thank you guys so much for the kind comments and kudos. Meant a lot.

When I entered the saloon, Clyde wasn’t behind the counter; he was still in the queue, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever retrieve him. I watched as Felt Hat One poured me two drinks, double checking to make sure his specs were right. He was still in his worn dusty clothes, but I’d change that tomorrow. 

It was just a trial run, but my stomach still lurched when the door opened and a gray humanoid character walked in. It had no assigned gender or bodily details; its nakedness reminded me of an alien from a black-and-white movie.

When the avatar sat down, Felt Hat One slid our drinks across the table. For a minute, the blank character just sat there, hand on its drink, not moving.

_ This is only a last resort, _ I told myself. I’d give Snoke what he wanted and allow him every opportunity to take my offer—all he had to do was say yes.

“Two shots for us,” I asked, tapping the counter twice.

The bartender reached down as if to grab a bottle.

As I held my breath, Felt Hat One brought up a shotgun and fired twice into the chest of the grayscale avatar. The bullets tore through it instantly, leaving gaping black holes behind. The character crumpled, shimmering briefly before fading away. The shots had made no sound; it was almost anticlimactic. 

However, it didn’t matter that there had been no blood, sound, or even the slightest resemblance to Snoke; I pictured it all myself in vivid detail, and suddenly I needed to throw up. Before I could so much as speak the exit command, I felt cold, and realized I was about to faint.

A second later, I was staring at my computer screen. The safety measures had kicked me out when I’d started to passing out inside the Falcon Bar. I was shivering, but at least the nausea had retreated enough that I wasn’t going to vomit.

I’d taped photos of my niece and nephew to the desktop screen. My brother had certainly passed down his fair skin, but Carrie and Harrison both had their mom’s dark hair and brown eyes. Harrison was born five months before my accident, and what a cute newborn he was. So cute you could catch baby fever just by looking at him. I remembered the day I told Ben I didn’t want to renew my birth control. 

Children would have been nice, but they weren't in the cards for me. I touched the corner of each photo almost reverently. In another life, there could have been cousins for them to play with. But in this one, an aunt would have to do; I’d protect them, and Armie and Rose too.

#

Ben was a terrible cook. This was a well-kept secret in our marriage, one he hid like bad acne. Tonight, I was pretty sure the fish should have been taken out of the oven five minutes ago, and the rice that had been bubbling away earlier now smelled scorched. 

He hadn’t cooked for me in earnest like this in a long time, not since we’d been dating. I wondered what he’d been surviving on, living on his own. I drank a glass of wine and watched him dance around the stove, trying his best to pretend he hadn’t lost control of the situation. 

“I’ve been watching the cooking channel,” he said, turning off the burner under the rice, almost forgetting to put on a mitt when he reached for the handle of the pot. “Even that one with the bushy-eyebrowed redhead you have a crush on.”

“Bobby Flay?” I laughed. “I do  _ not _ have a crush on him, he’s just…” I waved the glass and Ben smirked, waiting. “He doesn’t have bushy eyebrows!”

“They look like caterpillars.” Ben opened the oven and grimaced. “Shit.”

“Should I call Bobby Flay?” I grinned, watching him pull out the tinfoil-covered fish. I breathed in the aroma of lemon and sage, and another earthy scent I couldn’t quite place. “It smells good,” I assured him, and wasn’t smell almost as important as taste? _ How bad could it be? _

#

“Pizza was good,” Ben said, tilting his head toward me as we laid in bed together. “Sorry about dinner.”

“Truffle oil sounds better than it tastes.” I found his hand under the sheets. “But you get points for venturing outside the box.”

“Breakfast in the morning?” 

I hesitated; I had hours of work ahead, and none of it work Ben could be privy to. “I…I want to.” 

“Are you working on something?” The mattress creaked as he moved closer. The night was dark, no moon, and a single streetlamp cast slivers of light through the window, revealing nothing more than Ben’s silhouette as he propped himself up on one elbow.

“What I’m working on... Well, right now…” I reached out and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble. “Us.” 

I knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted. His forehead pressed to mine and there was a moment of silence.

His lips brushed mine, gentle. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

#

Felt Hat One looked a far cry from his original model; instead of his dude ranch costume, he wore a pristine white shirt with a black band on the upper arm. His hair was now short and gelled back. The transformation made him appear professional, even charming. He could smile now, and when he poured a drink, he spoke the snobbiest variety of British English. 

The music drummed on. The sounds I’d selected for background noise were generic, nothing special: saloon harmonica, sounds of cards shuffling, mumbling voices. I needed it ambient; not loud, but distracting.

The bartender took up a glass and started cleaning it with a white dish towel, one of three things he would do while waiting for a drink order; they looped continuously. I grabbed a pretzel from the bowl and bit into it. I tasted salt, but the rest was almost nonexistent, and I couldn’t get it to crunch in my teeth. Fuck. I needed more than just the drink to make it seem real. 

My initial sick feeling was gone. My cell phone on the table, I typed in the activation code. When the door opened, my grayscale avatar walked in again.

The bartender started the two rum and cokes. The ice clinked in the glasses, and when he handed it to me, it was cold; the glass even sweated. I was proud. That had been crazy complicated to program. In one trial run, the glass had looked like it was weeping, and another time the ice cubes had clinked loudly inside the drink long after they were supposed to.

I would offer Snoke the program and everything he saw in return for leaving me and my family the hell alone. The small details were to impress him, to entice him to take it. But if he threatened me, tried to hurt me, or promised to harm those I loved, I could take the next step. 

I was about to order the two shots when Kylo appeared.

His abrupt and unexpected materialization two feet away made me scream. I clamped a hand over my mouth.

“What are you doing?” Kylo demanded, his eyes flitting to the gray avatar at the counter, now holding its drink.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I slid off the seat, unnerved.

“Intervention,” he said dryly. “We need to talk.”

“You can’t be here—”

“You shouldn’t be either. You took the firewalls down, every protective measure of this virtual world. It was enough to alert me to check on your mental wellbeing. Little did I know, I’d be stumbling upon this instead. Did you actually create a weapon?” 

“It’s a precaution.”

He waved to the new bartender. “You can’t kill someone inside this program. I’ve checked. What the fuck are you doing?”

The direct accusation made me flinch back. “Protecting my family.”

“By making Snoke want to kill you after your failed assassination attempt?”

“It’s not death, not…” I took a deep breath. “It’s like a prison. One he won’t be able to escape.”

“Rey, that’s not you.” Kylo searched my eyes. “You can’t do this.”

“He’d become a human upload.”

“How?” he asked.

“Wearing the headgear allows it to take control of your senses. But there’s a risk, because the program could so fully integrate into your senses that it would begin to think of you as part of the program.” 

“So the program would treat you like a character?”

“Yes and no. The program wouldn’t be able to tell you  _ weren’t _ a character. And you might not be able to, either. Not after a while. That’s why staying in the program too long could be dangerous. But even if you were only inside for a little while, if the program thought you were in danger of dying and couldn’t exit, it would, in a final measure, take over.”

“Snoke would integrate with the actual program?”

“You asked if I could make the flame burn your skin. Yes, I could. This would shock his system, quickly. It’s aimed at the heart. Unable to flee, he’d succumb to the upload quickly. A minute, maybe two.”

“And he’d live in the Falcon Bar forever?”

“I could set up different worlds, a fish tank of sorts.”

“If that’s your alternative, killing him would be a mercy, Rey. That’s eternity…”

“It’s only a last resort, if there’s no other options.” I met his gaze and saw that intelligence that shouldn’t belong, but did. “It’s not just my life on the line.”

“You need to tell Ben about this. He works undercover. You think Snoke’s power and money makes him untouchable, but it doesn’t.”

“I-I just want my life back. And Snoke isn’t going to let me go. I know that. If I go to Ben, he’ll want the police involved. Litigation, lawyers, and one day, Armie is going to be driving his car with the family, and they’ll get in an ‘accident.’ That’s the type of man Snoke is. He won’t forget.”

“Monsters under the bed are only as scary as you make them.” Kylo stepped around me and surveyed the room. “Your fear is his power. This isn’t the way you defeat him.” 

“He deserves it.”

“Yes.” Kylo reached out and took my hand. “But not in this world.”

I stared at the gray avatar till my eyes blurred with tears. Dammit, he was right. I couldn’t go through with this. What the hell had I been thinking? As if knowing I needed it, Kylo’s arms encircled me, drawing me into a tight hug.

My phone buzzed. I glanced at it, my heart dropping.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I have to go. A complication. Nothing big, just—” 

Kylo suddenly jerked the phone out of my hand and peered at the screen. “Don’t let him in.”

“I can handle him.”

“He’s not going to hurt you again.”

“I’ll call Ben, okay?”

Kylo nodded. 

I logged off, and knew instantly that something was wrong. The aquarium was on its side. No, that wasn’t right. I blinked furiously. Considering the usual disorientation of exiting the program, at first I didn’t think much of the fact that I couldn’t raise my arms. But after a second, I realized I couldn’t talk either. 

I wasn’t in my chair. Shit, I was at a side angle. The couch. _ Why was I on the couch? _

“Sorry for the restraints, my dear.” Snoke’s voice drifted over me. “I tried to make sure you were comfortable.”

I turned my head, trying to follow the voice, but I couldn’t see him.

“You installed a new system.” He was moving around the house. “Voice activated. I don’t know all the codes you’ve put into it. Couldn’t chance missing one and have you ruining our day with a police call.”

I was lying on my back, a cloth gag between my teeth and cuffs on my wrists. He’d taken care with my legs, propping them up for me. I tried once again to find him, but he kept in the background, making sure to stay outside my periphery. 

“I’m impressed. You have been such a _ busy _ ,  _ busy _ little bee, getting ready for me. I hadn’t thought you capable of such ruthless tactics. But imagine my surprise when I found the mousetrap you had waiting for me.”

No, he couldn’t know. There was no way. He chuckled as I tried to voice a protest. 

“You think I just straightened up your house that day?” He spoke to me as he would an errant child. “Silly girl. You were so busy creating your trap, you forgot to make sure there wasn’t one hanging over you.”

He was at the head of the couch, and I caught sight of the gold of his clothes as he touched the top of my headgear. 

“Genius, really, the entire program. The spyware I installed has informed me of everything you’ve created. And I want you to know I appreciate all the hard work you’ve done. In fact, I’m going to reward you.”

His face loomed large over me, grinning. The view made me feel like I was trapped at the bottom of a well. 

“My favorite employee, living forever in her own creation. As soon as you’re inside the program, I’ll start a very special simulation just for you.”

Unable to move, I couldn’t do anything when I saw him reach into his pocket, pulling out a syringe and a small bottle. 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s just enough to relax you. It will slow your heart rate. The first dose will put you under, and the second dose, well... That’s going to take care of any chance you have of returning to this life. As soon as your upload is complete, I’ll join you in there. But first, there’s so much I have to clean up. This place is going to be a crime scene, after all.”

He punched the needle into the top of the bottle. “Ben’s going to find himself on the other side of the bars, I’m afraid.” I watched as he drew a small amount of clear liquid. “He quit his job, and he’s been spending  _ so _ much time at home. All his coworkers have been worried about him. And those ripped up divorce papers are going to be found all over your house. Those handcuffs are his, by the way. They have his prints all over them.”

I shook my head, trying to move away when he came near. Snoke shushed empathetically at my futile attempts. 

“Be a good girl now. I’ve even programmed you something pretty to wear for me when I show up.”

The needle pricked my skin, and the cold spread quickly. It was like being dipped underwater. My breathing slowed, and there was no fight; I simply went under.

#

The familiar music of the Falcon Bar woke me. I was standing, but I wasn’t alone. The gray avatar had me locked in an embrace. When I tried to move away, I found it was impossible. I was in my buttoned sundress, and at my first attempt to escape, the avatar started moving towards the bar.

Felt Hat One wasn’t there; instead, it was Clyde, smiling as he started making the two rum and cokes.  _ Shit. _ I dragged my feet, trying to stop what was coming.

“Cauliflower!” I shouted, but nothing happened. I tried every exit word I had, but no change. Snoke had tampered with the controls, and I didn’t need to guess how this was going to go.

Ben couldn’t go down for this. I had to make this right. My arm wrenched painfully as the avatar dragged me the rest of the way. Clyde set the drink in front of me. His eyes were friendly and kind. Would he smile as he shot me? I grabbed the drink with my free hand and threw it at him. It wasn’t programmed to shatter, and he didn’t flinch as the drink hit him squarely in the chest, the liquid pouring out but not staining his shirt.

He reached out a hand and tapped the counter twice. “Two shots, coming up.” 

“Clyde, please don’t do this,” I begged him, knowing he was just going to go through the motions, like he always did. 

I watched as he started to reach down.

“Rey.”

The sound of my name surprised me.  _ Kylo _ . I saw him take in the rapidly unfolding scene. He raced toward me, but he was a few feet away—impossibly far away. He’d never make it. I saw Clyde raise the shotgun from behind the bar.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I heard the blast and felt hands shoving me hard, knocking me back as the avatar holding me let go. The gray avatar blinked out; the task was done.

This was it. I stared down at my chest, expecting to see blood, expecting pain, expecting  _ something _ … What I didn’t expect was for Kylo to stagger. He clutched his stomach in pain—which was crazy, because he shouldn’t have been in pain. 

_ What the hell? _ I scrambled to my feet and ran to him.

“Holy fuck.” He gritted his teeth. “Exit program.” When nothing happened, he tried again.

“Kylo?”

He glanced up at me, breathing heavily. “Probably the worst time in the world to say this, but hey, sweetheart.”

It only took one look into his eyes for all the pieces to fall into place. “Ben?”

He nodded. “Only one shot hit me, but...something’s wrong. Finn should’ve had me out by now. What’s going on?”

“Snoke’s in control of the program. He was going to upload me, and then blame you for my death…” I grasped his shirt as he started to fall back. “Ben!” 

“This feels pretty real.” He groaned, and I helped him sit slowly. “I told Finn to call the police before I logged in.”

“Finn is there?” Hope flickered inside me. “He’ll see your vitals dip and—”

“He’s gone, headed to the house. I saw you log on.” He winced, his voice already starting to sound shaky. “I was afraid you were going to go through with the plan. Finn headed to your house to make sure the police understood, if they found you inside the program.”

“Why is Finn involved? What are you doing here?” I struggled to understand how this was possible, knowing that if the program decided he was dying, it was going to take over soon.

“Finn knew you’d taken the project home,” Ben said, touching the black holes in his stomach. No gruesome blood or guts coming out, but I’d programmed the shot to hit like shrapnel, putting the body in instant distress and ending things quickly. But Ben hadn’t been hit squarely in the chest, so his vitals hadn’t yet gone into crisis mode. “He used your work laptop, the one you thought had been wiped clean, and was able to portal in through your own access port.”

“Finn did all that, why?” I asked, perplexed.

“Because he didn’t want you to become Pandora. Because he cared about you, and because he thought, somehow, I could convince you to destroy it.” 

“And everything else?” 

“I wanted to save our marriage.” He reached out and took my hand, smiling for a second before the pain took it away. “Finn was going to put me in as Clyde and have me talk to you. We’d gotten it all set up, and then I saw you create the therapist avatar. I have a background in psychology, so I figured I’d wing it and— Fuck,” he swore, looking away as he took another breath that seemed too shallow. “I had a few questions. We’d gone months without a word, and suddenly you were telling me why.”

It explained everything. “The fire, the room…” I met his gaze.

“Finn showing off. He didn’t know about the marriage stuff.” Ben closed his eyes. “I should never have gone this far. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” I cupped his face, watching as his chest started moving in an uneven rhythm I didn’t like. “I-I made Clyde and Kylo, didn’t I? I should be sorry, I cheated on you—”

“Pretty sure there’s a loophole in our marriage vows that accounts for making an avatar that looks like your husband and sleeping with it,” Ben tried to joke, but whatever was happening was taking its toll. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t go to sleep.” I touched his cheek gently, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Ben?”

He didn’t respond. 

“My dear,” a voice purred. I glanced up to find Felt Hat Two standing next to the pool table. “I logged on to find out what was taking your upload so long, but this...is rather unexpected.” His eyes moved to Ben.

Ben’s body was starting to shimmer, a sure sign the upload had begun. Snoke grinned as he watched the process. “So Finn had the equipment, not you. I hadn’t thought to check for outside interference. Hmm... Do you think it will create a black hole of nothingness if I delete him? I can’t wait to find out.” 

“Let him go, please,” I said, moving toward the bar when he approached me, his stride sure, cocky. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be uploaded in no time. But since I’m here, might as well show you what’s in store.” 

As soon as my hand touched the counter, I saw Clyde start making two drinks. Snoke must have programmed it without realizing it would loop, like all of his actions. My eyes flitted to the back door. If he hadn’t noticed the loop, or that I’d made it this far, perhaps he hadn’t disabled the reset.

“You think you can manage all this without me?” I challenged him.

“Maybe. But if I have questions, it won’t be hard to find you.” He sneered. “And if you don’t cooperate, I have endless ways of encouraging you.”

“You know, the thing about this world is that you can’t control it.” I took two steps back, hearing the ice clink in the glasses. “I found that out the hard way.”

“Ah, but that’s the difference. I never leave things up to chance.”

When he closed the distance between us, I made no attempt to flee. His hand reached up, stroking my cheek affectionately. Even inside his avatar, his eyes held their coldness. “For you, my dear, all is lost.”

I heard Clyde set the drink down. Snoke’s lips curled as he leaned forward to kiss me. I snuck a glance at Ben and my heart thudded harder. He was starting to fade _. No, no, no _ .

Clyde tapped the counter twice, drawing Snoke’s attention long enough for him to realize what was about to happen. My drink was on the table; I grabbed it, throwing it in his face. He reacted, and I ran for the door. Ben was almost gone. 

Snoke growled, turning away from Clyde. I didn’t have time to watch. The sound of gunshots wasn’t far off, but it seemed to be miles away. I looked back only once, just in time to see Ben’s form fading out, before I grabbed the handle and pushed through.

#

I was alone, standing in my usual starting spot. Ben was gone. Behind the counter, Clyde smiled at me.

“Hey, can I make you a drink?”

_ Ben. Shit _ . Was he trapped in here? Did it work? 

“Computer, exit Falcon Bar.”

The first thing I saw was my ceiling, blue and red lights flashing across the wall. Sound came next, and I heard someone pounding on the door. I couldn’t move, the restraints still in place. My body felt sluggish, but it was probably just the residual effects of the drug I’d been given. 

The sound of splitting wood let me know my door was being broken down. Feebly, I tried to call out. Faces I didn’t know hovered above me. The uniforms of cops. They approached quickly. One of them took out my gag. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” a young cop with straw-colored hair and light blue eyes asked kindly as he reached for a key from his belt. The cuffs came off a second later. I tried to sit up and everything spun.

“Please, I have to get to Ben,” I finally managed to say. I worked off the headgear and saw the cop look at it, puzzled. My dry tongue made the words stick. “I have to find out if he made it out.”

The man glanced over his shoulder. “We need a medic.”

He wasn’t listening, but as I tried to push myself up, the room did more than spin; it started whiting out.

The ceiling was moving, and I realized I must have passed out. I was on a stretcher now, and it was taking me down the hall. Something was on my face; I felt oxygen pumping through it. 

The medics were talking. 

“She keeps asking for Ben.”

“The friend says it's the husband.”

“The zombie guy?”

“Shh... She might hear you.”

I wanted to ask them what they meant. But then the red and blue flashing lights started to blur, and I knew no more.

#

When I woke, Armie was sitting next to my hospital bed. It didn’t take more than a cursory glance to know that he’d exhausted the empty box of Kleenex on the bedside table. One of the tissues was clenched in his hand, and when he saw me stir, he shoved it hastily into his sweater pocket.

“Sis.” He leaned over, finding my hand. I tried to talk and found my throat parched. A styrofoam cup with a straw was nearby, and he brought it to my lips. “You were pretty touch and go for a while there. The doctor just left. Said the dose you got about killed you.”

“Snoke did it.”

“We know—but it looks like whatever he was doing punched his ticket.”

“He’s dead?”

“No, I—don’t know for sure, cops are being tight lipped, but they called him a zombie. Sounds like he’s staring at the wall, not responding to anything. I didn’t tell them about your work, but—” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “What happened?”

“I opened Pandora’s box.” I saw confusion on his face. “Ben, is he—”

“Escaping,” a voice called from the door. I recognized it: Finn. 

Ben, in a green and white hospital gown, smiled at me as he maneuvered his IV pole into my room. Behind him, Finn looked relieved to see me, even as he glanced furtively over his shoulder. Clearly neither one of them were supposed to be there, but Armie sat up from his chair, gesturing for Ben to take it.

The relief was so great that I couldn’t talk. He wasn’t dead, or trapped in the program along with Snoke. Ben made his way over slowly, his yellow-socked feet shuffling on the floor rather than walking. Finn had his elbow. My former intern wasn’t wearing the uniform of the company, but a windbreaker and grey sweatpants. His black hair was almost as ruffled as my husband’s.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Finn. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, but he’d saved my life by reaching out to Ben. He nodded and patted my thigh before exchanging a look with Armie.

“Why don’t we give you two a few minutes?” Armie said. “Cops will be in here once they know you're awake. And after that, Carrie and Harrison. So be prepared for hugs, kisses and a seven-year-old nurse.”

They exited, and I felt Ben take my hand. “I’ve been circling the halls.” He grinned. “They kept making me go back to my room.”

“Are you hurt?” I searched his face. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten out unscathed; his lip was swollen and his cheek looked slightly bruised. “I saw you fade. I thought you upload—”

“Shh…” He leaned over and kissed my lips. “None of that. Apparently, I had a seizure. Just a small one, managed to faceplant on the floor, but I woke up—”

“You almost didn’t.”

“ _ We _ almost didn’t.” The double meaning was not lost on me. “I’m sorry. For making you think, for even one second, that you needed to find me elsewhere.”

“You were pretty sexy as Kylo,” I said, and watched his eyes light up. “When we get home, would you want to continue those sessions?”

He grinned, but when the teasing was done, his expression shifted. In his eyes, there was such grief mixed with joy. Bittersweet, and I tasted it all when his lips met mine, drawing me close. Reminding me of what we’d forgotten. 

#

_ Crazy. _

_ I’m crazy for feeling so lonely. _

_ I’m crazy. _

_ Crazy for feeling so blue. _

_ I knew  _

_ You’d love me as long as you wanted. _

_ And then someday _

_ You’d leave me for somebody new. _

“What is up with this depressing music?”

Ben reached over and turned off the car radio. I smiled, watching as the beach came into view, my hair blowing in the breeze from the window I had rolled down. 

“Sorry, I was just texting Armie. What do you want to listen to?” I asked, tapping my playlist on the iPhone.

“We’ll be there soon. Is he enjoying his Mustang?” 

“ _ His _ Mustang?” I pushed up my sunglasses. “Rose has already driven to and from the beach three times.already. I’m pretty sure the mom van is getting traded in when they get back.”

The ghost of a smirk played on his lips as he checked the mirror for the hundredth time. We were in a rented Camaro and he had the damn thing on cruise control. A truck passed us by, and the guy glared as Ben gave him the same cheesy “hang loose” sign that he’d given to every driver who’d passed us in the last thirty minutes. 

“Carrie has threatened to bury me in the sand,” he said. “But I think she’ll be too busy searching the coast for surfer boys to make good on that threat.”

“She’s twelve.” I slapped his shoulder. “She likes barbie dolls.”

“Liked,” Ben corrected. “Those posters on her wall of unicorns and mermaids have been replaced by brooding emo teenagers, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Well, at least Harrison will still want to build a sand castle with me,” I grumbled. 

“Two weeks, maybe the great outdoors will cure him of his video game obsession.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I stared out the window, feeling that shiver that would come out of nowhere sometimes.

“Armitage asked me yesterday, about what happened.” Ben was the only one who called my brother by his full name. He waited till I looked at him to continue. “It’s been five years. I think we can tell him, at least something.”

“I will. But not yet. He’s still—” I couldn’t say it, but Snoke was still technically alive. Empire Enterprise had been dissolved and Finn, my former intern, was heading Sky Resistance, the new manufacturer of Simulation Now. Ben and I still received a monthly royalty check, and I was in charge of helping keep the program from becoming anything more than a normal VR game.

“I know. But he chose his own fate. And Finn doesn’t think characters in the queue have any sort of consciousness.”

Some days, I slept fine; others, my thoughts kept me awake. But I considered those memories a warning. I would never open the program again. It wasn’t worth the risk.

A yellow cab passed us and honked loudly. Ben, once again, told him to hang loose.

“You could go a bit faster.” I reached out and teased his hair. I noticed a few grays, but I wouldn’t tell him. He already worried about us being a bit older.

“Maybe, but not with our daughter in the back. Everyone is just going to have to be patient.”

At the sound of her dad’s voice, our one-year-old daughter gave a yawn, waking up. I patted Ben’s shoulder before leaning back and giving her a smile. Her mother was of Middle Eastern descent; she had beautiful mocha skin, and hair so thick it haloed her face in thick curls. We’d waited three years on an adoption list.

I felt Ben’s hand in my own.

After everything, we’d named her for what she was to us.

Hope. 


	7. Art (includes Nudity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art by Christina Pongetti. You can find her as Stavrogin80 on Patreon.com I love her realism and how she can captures all the feels in one fanart. 
> 
> This contains nudity. So if that bothers you...eh, you know how to hit the back button. 
> 
> Little happily ever after picture

**Author's Note:**

> Art by OwBenSolo on Twitter. I love her style and supporting Reylo artist. Please check her out and follow. If I can ever figure out how to put a Twitter Account on here I will.


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